


Splitting Open Marshmallows

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Danny and Rusty's half conversations, Eavesdropping, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Hiding an injury, Hurt Linus, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Lack of Communication, Linus' obsession to prove himself, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Pining, Poor Linus, Protectiveness, Requited Love, Romance, Secret Crush, Sharing a Bed, Threesome - M/M/M, Trope Bingo Round 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: It’s not lost on him how he doesn’t deserve these two amazing men, or either one of them, but that somehow he has gotten themboth.Or: Linus takes a beating and tries to hide it and Danny and Rusty finally decide that the rules shouldn’t apply. “More like guidelines. Healthy guidelines.”
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 125
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	Splitting Open Marshmallows

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope Bingo Round 14 for the prompt [Sharing a Bed](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/47728.html). 
> 
> Well, these three have stolen my heart. It was less of a challenge to write Danny and Rusty than I thought, but I hope they’re in character and believable here. Linus, on the other hand, is just so much fun to write because he’s kinda an awful lot like me, which is probably why he’s my favorite. Basically though, I wanted some Linus whump and there’s like none out there and I realized I was just gonna have to write some for myself so yeah, that’s what this is. I also don’t tend to write in the present tense but it just kinda worked for this?

There are two things Linus know about Danny and Rusty.

One: they always find some excuse to sneak off together, a moment here or there, a walk outdoors, a conversation behind closed doors. There’s a friendship and familiarity and companionship between the two that has Linus aching if he dwells on it too long. He longs for that connection with another human being. He longs for that connection with Danny and Rusty themselves, even a mere  _fraction_ of it, but these thoughts as with so many others he keeps buried deep, so he doesn’t have to choke on them from continuously swallowing them down. 

Two: they’re undeniably in love, or some form of it, though whether they’ve acted all the way on it he will never be allowed to know. Linus is intimately aware that he shouldn’t know this, that the obsessive way and length of time in which he has studied them crosses well over into stalker territory, but he also tells himself that it doesn’t really matter that he does know. He will never act on it, never disclose it, never use it as blackmail. He respects these men, respects what these men have too much. He understands that if you piss one of them off you’ll earn the lifelong wrath of the other, and that if you help one you will earn the unbreakable gratitude of the other… mostly. 

He also knows that he will never do enough,  _be_ enough in their eyes to warrant one or the other of those things. 

So he will know and he will long and he will shut up about it.

Except… you repress something long enough,  _hard_ enough and it will eventually get you into trouble. 

Rusty’s voice filters through the thin wall Linus is leaning against. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be listening in even though this is his room and it’s not his fault if they think he’s asleep. His hand shouldn’t be splayed out on the wall, bracing himself, half wishing they knew he was there, half-prepared to make some sound so they’ll shut up and simply let him  _be._

“That time I broke my ankle…”

“Too pushy?” Linus can practically _see_ Danny’s smile: broad and charismatic as always, soft and not exaggerated as it is whenever he’s around Rusty, like he knows he could never play him, like he knows he need never doubt that Rusty feels exactly, measure by measure, the same. 

Rusty laughs nearly breathlessly and it makes Linus warm and tingly all over. His hand tightens on the wall, fingers just barely digging into the plaster. He’s afraid of breathing too heavily even though there’s nothing he can do to calm his racing heart. “You could’ve picked a better moment for our first kiss, then again, considering I was too preoccupied to see it coming…”

Linus blushes and starts backpedaling, fingernails scraping just barely along the wall and he sucks in a panicked breath. He shouldn’t be hearing this.

“Worked like a charm, huh?”

Linus walks, practically  _flees_ to the bathroom, Danny’s words repeating over and over in his head like a mantra, dangerous and intrusive because he knows they aren’t for him. No, they could  _never_ be for him. 

He wants to throw something at the wall, that clock on the nightstand, a lamp maybe, even the pillows are there to be pummeled and abused. He needs to channel his anger and  _hurt_ into  _something._

Instead, he sits down on the toilet seat, reminds himself he can’t watch TV to calm his nerves  _just in case_ and runs shaking hands through his hair. 

Danny and Rusty are  _always_ a package deal. 

And, slowly but surely, this fact is  _killing_ Linus.

* * *

He’s doing recon on their latest job when he makes the rookie, foolish,  _stupid_ mistake of not paying attention to where he’s going. He’s just walking, all too wrapped up in his own head going over everything he’s learned in the last fourteen hours. It shouldn’t worry him so much, what with the phone call he’d already had with Rusty, using him to filter out the useless intel and work out most of the kinks, but Linus always was a worrier and always will be and especially when it concerns a job,  _especially_ when it concerns a job with people he cares a whole helluva lot about. 

And that’s inevitably what he’s thinking about,  _exactly_ what he shouldn’t be, because once you get him started on Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan it’s like his mind has been fitted on one track and there’s no straying from it, there’s no jumping off or downplaying his insecurities or pretending he’s not always been desperate to prove himself to them and to  _have_ them, to have their trust and their friendship and their attention and all the things that are just too much for him to ask for. 

If anything, that conversation he’d unfortunately eavesdropped on only hit home harder how the unattainable had just become a  _hundred_ times more so. Now that Tess was mostly out of the picture, it was even more clear how devoted Danny and Rusty would be toward each other. 

There would never be room for Linus.

Sure, they’d make room as they always had but only to a certain extent: on the team, maybe even as casual friends.  _Casual friends._ If ever words were horrible enough to make you sick at heart…

He’s pissed people off on this  _almost_ job. Hell, the others have barely even stuck their heads out yet and Linus is  _all_ out there, asking the questions that shouldn’t be asked, digging deep enough as Danny had requested. There’s no backup close enough to ease his anxiety, to convince him he can relax his guard even a fraction. All he knows is that he  _won’t_ fuck this up. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Linus has taken a wrong turn, which is a problem because this isn’t the first time he’s felt like he’s being followed. This is the first time, however, that he’s actually been  _right._

“Hey! You’re Ocean’s kid, right?”

In the space of a heartbeat Linus starts running, runs with the cold wind whipping through him, runs with the breath caught in his throat, runs with the realization that Daniel Ocean’s enemies are his enemies too.

He turns a corner, almost tripping over his own feet. They’re catching up to him despite that Linus is a pretty damn good sprinter, but it doesn’t matter as he nearly collides with a brick wall and then falls against it, panting and reeling in pointless adrenaline.

It’s a dead end.

There are loud, hurried footsteps and there are harsh, cursed words against him and against Danny and  _oh god, I wasn’t careful enough and oh god, this is it, isn’t it_ and then there are hands on him, throwing him continuously against the wall like he’s nothing more than a rag doll. There are at least three, maybe four, possibly even five of them and it’s pointless to fight past trying in vain to push them away, so he grimaces and tucks his head under his arms and takes it. As soon as he lifts his head after a brief moment of calm, there are fists striving to open him up and lay all his secrets and weaknesses bare, fists driving into his stomach long past him losing the capability of pulling in air, blows that don’t stop until his stomach is throbbing brutally in protest and until he’s crying so harshly he’s sobbing, tears mixed with snot and blood from his split lip, sobs that lead to harsh coughing when he’s only making it harder for himself to breathe. 

They leave, eventually, laughing as they watch him cradle his stomach and try to slow his defeated crying. Linus reminds himself it’s more important to breathe than to wallow in self-pity. He doesn’t try to stand for fear of them making sure he won’t get back up again for a long time. He doesn’t lift his gaze either, just stares at the blurred concrete or at the blurrier brick wall, trying to focus on how lucky he is to be alive rather than the sharp burn of warning in his belly.

When it’s all over, when they’re long gone, Linus stands on shaky legs, wipes the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand and vows that Danny or Rusty will never know what happened today.

* * *

It’s an easier promise to himself than it is to achieve.

He couldn’t hide from those two no matter how hard he tried to make himself invisible.

Rusty notices him first and the only reason why he doesn’t say anything is because all eleven of them are in the room together. They’re rehashing their newest job, set to come to fruition in less than four days time, the very one he’s just likely taken a beating for but never mind that. Linus hovers at the back closest to the door he’s just entered. He’s more than reasonably late but by some miracle Danny and the others don’t notice. The only reason Rusty does is because he’s closest to the back too, halfway across the room, his gaze practically peeling Linus open with unspoken questions and friendly concern and something else entirely that Linus can’t and isn’t prepared to decipher.

Linus smiles at him briefly, nods that he’s fine and then turns away without waiting to see whether Rusty will accept his answer. He stands there for probably all of ten minutes, though of course it feels more like ten hours with his belly throbbing like it’s being pounded by a hammer and his headache increasing to migraine level and his denial that Rusty won’t call him out on being late even though it never happens. Granted, even from halfway across the room Rusty must notice his split lip and the disastrous state of his face, but it’s still an undeserved relief that he’s allowed to remain hidden.

When it’s clear Danny’s wrapping up the meet, Linus hightails it before anyone else can notice him, making for the first floor bathroom in Reuben’s sprawling mansion. He can hear footsteps close at his heels but slams the door closed and locks it, completely unprepared for sharing words with anyone at this point.

He falls against the sink, ashamed at his mangled face and blood-soaked collar, crying silently at the pain in his stomach as he sits on the toilet seat, heavy and unsteady and nearly falling over onto the floor. He wraps shaking arms around his abdomen as if he can hold all the pain inside and he wishes he could just tell Danny and Rusty everything but knows that he can’t.

Because then they’ll have been right.

He always was the weakest link in their chain.

* * *

It must be dinnertime because by the time Linus leaves the bathroom, it’s dark and quiet save for the echo of animated talking and the clink of silverware from the dining room just down the hall. Even still, he closes the door carefully, hesitating for several moments as to whether he should just bite the bullet and join them or take pity on himself and maybe even do the smart thing: go lay down and try to get as much rest as possible before their job.

Except, that really isn’t the smart thing. The smartest thing would be to tell Danny and Rusty what happened, or at least tell one and the other will inevitably find out. The smart thing is to just let them take him off the job as if it can’t be helped.

But Linus is a coward and he will do no such thing.

Rusty is quiet this time around, if Linus can flatter himself enough to assume he had tried to chase him down earlier. He effectively traps Linus as he nears the staircase and then turns back, resigned to never being able to get up those stairs in his condition. Upon the near collision, Linus exhales and steels himself because it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Rusty’s eyes are sharp and demanding now, even incredibly possessive as they survey him from head to toe. Surprisingly, he doesn’t mention what’s all too apparent because of course, why would Rusty make it easy for him? Why would he press Linus when it was all too easier to watch him squirm?

“You hungry, kid? Reuben’s got this new Thai chef and the pad Thai is out of this world.”

Food, whether Rusty’s eating it or talking about it, usually the former, it’s the one topic of conversation that’s always fair game. It’s his way to ease into an uncomfortable situation, his go-to bribe if he can get away with it, his excuse for bowing out of a conversation he has no patience for. It’s an offering now, one with plenty of strings attached but regardless, Linus feels more affection for him than he should.

Time to shut it down  _now_ . 

Linus swallows, the dryness of his mouth and the long crying spell making it painful. “No thanks.” His voice is hoarse and pitiful and just a little bit pleading. “Think I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.” Because Reuben’s offered rooms and soft, plush beds for any of them, any time they’re working a job together and need a convenient, keyword  _safe_ place to crash, and Linus really thinks he needs to lie down right about now. 

Rusty looks disappointed, like he actually thought Linus would cave and spill everything. Not that it would change anything. Not that Rusty could possibly do anything about it. He’d probably just say ‘sorry, kid’ or ‘you’re safe here with us, kid’ or maybe if he was feeling really nice ‘I’ll see if I can scrounge up some soup.’

Linus’ head hurts too much to try to figure out why Rusty is even here right now. Maybe because it’s his job to make sure they’re all ready to go in four days, maybe to make sure he doesn’t need to pull Linus out because his head isn’t in the game because he’s so damn exhausted and in too much pain to hold himself upright and on his feet any longer.

Rusty backs off, posture deflating and eyes softening until Linus can breathe a sigh of relief. Until he can look away and pretend again that Rusty doesn’t care, not really, only cares about making sure the next four days go by without a hitch, that the job comes together perfectly. “Sure, kid. Just remember we’re heading out pretty early tomorrow.”

In fact, Linus is too much in pain and too upset to remember to berate Rusty for calling him kid.

* * *

Linus doesn’t sleep so much as lay on his back, a position he’s not prone to, and count the immeasurably long seconds as he waits for the sharp pulsing in his abdomen to lessen enough for him to get an hour or two of reprieve. He thinks about downing some aspirin but hardly thinks he’ll make it all the way to the kitchen and back again, plus there’s the chance he may run into someone, the worst of which would be Danny.

Because he can’t lie to Danny, not  _really._

Finally, at some ungodly hour, Linus rolls himself gingerly out of bed, sweat streaming down his cheeks, head on fire from trying to deal with hours worth of stomach pain, and walks slowly to the kitchen and, of course, hears voices. He curses, about to turn back until he realizes whom the voices belong to.

You can’t really blame him with how much pain he’s in, how intrigued he is and how he just wants several minutes worth of distraction.

“…is late and doesn’t think to call or apologize or even _join_ us for dinner!”

A long pause and Linus holds himself steady, pushing the pain deeper.

“Just spit it out, Rus, whatever the hell it…”

“Kid’s got a split lip and a bruised cheek. Think there’s some damage to his stomach too, considering how he was holding it when I cornered him.”

“You think he’s hiding something?”

“I don’t think he’s been mixing himself up in Fight Club, Danny.”

“So you think someone came after him. Why?”

“To get to us? To punish us in some way? I don’t know but I sure as hell don’t like it.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s sleeping, _downstairs_. I didn’t push him, Danny, but maybe I should’ve.”

“You’re not the pushy type, Rusty.”

Linus could almost laugh because Rusty has his own ways of pushing, but he’s far too spellbound by their conversation that’s primarily about  _him_ to sway him from it. 

“True, but this is gonna eat at me until we get to the bottom of it. And I _hate_ things that eat at me.”

Danny sighs heavily. He slams the refrigerator door closed and Linus just barely manages not to whimper after he startles. He’s starting to feel dizzy but this would be the  _worst_ place to fall over and pass out. “Yeah, me too.”

“Kid’s gotta…”

“Yeah, he does. He’s stronger…”

“I get that too, Danny. I don’t like it but we’ve rubbed off on him alright.”

“So let’s fix it.”

And Linus shivers at what exactly  _that_ could mean.

* * *

The next morning he looks even worse than he ever would have thought possible.

He tries to wash away his bloodshot eyes, the dark circles under them betraying only a tenth of the true exhaustion he feels. The pain has gone down a fraction but it hardly makes a difference with how stiff and sore he is. His split lip is scabbing over, though licking the inside of his mouth in that area is completely  _not_ a good idea, and he’s resigned to wearing loose-fitting, comfortable clothing which is entirely too haphazard and casual. 

Oh well, time to go face the insults and the teasing and the imminent interrogation and if he’s lucky, none of that and only the thousand-yard stares.

He’s late again, plans it that way, and this time two suspicious sets of eyes land on him before politely glancing away. It’s definitely a warning and Linus is a big boy, knows he needs to step up and say something, to show Danny enough respect to apologize, but there’s never a right moment for it, even when the eight others in the room acknowledge his existence. That’s even  _worse_ than he could have imagined because there’s no Danny or Rusty to pull them away or smooth things over; the two men mysteriously hightail it as soon as Linus is noticed. There are only concerned questions and relentless teasing and uneasy, pitying stares. 

Linus flees after a brief spell of almost lying and reassurances he can barely get out past his lips. He can no longer control that itch under his skin of not knowing whether he’s still on this job, not knowing how angry Danny and Rusty are at him right now, not knowing if by not trusting them they won’t give him the benefit of the doubt either.

So he flees and practically runs into the only two people on his mind, standing outside casually as if they’ve been waiting for him.

Now he  _really_ has to say something. “Dan…,” he starts but Danny cuts him off. 

“Everything good, Linus?”

God, he hates this. He  _hates_ this. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”  _Liar liar liar. Why can’t you just be a man and admit you fucked up?_

“Good.”

He can’t help but wonder why he’s  _still_ not being called out on his bullshit and, just like always, can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “But…”

“If you say you’re good, Linus, then you’re good.”

Rusty nods along with him because  _of course_ they’re not going to disagree about this. Rusty already gave him a chance and he didn’t take it, though it’s infinitely worse now because Linus can’t read him behind his sunglasses and he knows that’s the whole point. “We trust you.”

Though Linus, relegating himself to the backseat of the one vehicle that neither Danny nor Rusty are in, feels like nothing but a traitor and wonders, if this really is a test, whether he’s failed yet.

* * *

Linus didn’t think about the twelve plus hour drive beforehand; maybe it was his subconscious’ way of protecting him from dwelling on something he was convinced he wouldn’t be able to handle.

He would have been  _absolutely_ right too. 

Thank  _god_ that he at least didn’t have to share a car with the twins; in fact, he’d only gotten stuck with Reuben, who was driving, and Yen, who only agreed to take the passenger seat because Reuben demanded he do so, leaving Linus with the backseat entirely to himself. 

It was as bearable as it could have been. The conversation was obviously minimal because it wasn’t like either one of them could understand Yen, not that it stopped Reuben when he wanted to talk or engage in a conversation, mostly with himself, but at least Linus was able to doze in and out and concentrate fully on making the pain manageable by controlling his inhales and exhales. He also thought up stupid games like counting objects as they rushed on by and reciting the menu of that breakfast place yesterday morning and - when excruciating detail promised a distraction out of the utmost desperation - the color, style and fit of every single shirt he’d ever seen Rusty wear.

Linus fingered the pack of gum in his pocket, wishing his jaw didn’t hurt so much to chew it, wishing he’d told Danny or Rusty and that he’d be in the same car with either one of them right now, that maybe somehow they’d have made it better.

But no, he was stuck with his own choices, stuck with Reuben and Yen and a pain so fierce it was tearing his insides apart, and he couldn’t escape from any one of those things.

It was hell even while bearable, being stuck in one small space for hours, only able to stretch out to alleviate the pain so much, feeling every pothole like a knife through his gut. At least he could put his head in his hands and crouch down behind the seat somewhat when he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had popped a few aspirin that morning but they’ve long since worn out by the time they stop for the night. That, paired with the little he ordered and the even smaller amount he actually  _ate_ when they stopped at that diner for lunch, has him barely being able to twist his way out of the car. He cowers against the car door when he’s finally out, breathing heavily and honestly not concerned who’s watching him as he just tries not to cry out and vomit and pass out, hopefully in that order. 

Luckily, no one is watching him when he lifts his head. Danny’s assigning motel rooms and Rusty’s unloading bags and the others are either nowhere in sight, already having gone to their rooms, or unloading their own bags. He waits for more of them to leave, waits until he can breathe somewhat normally again before going up to Danny, about to ask him what room he’s in.

He’s completely forgotten about that, how he won’t have the simple luxury of being alone tonight but will have to keep up appearances. He can already feel the tears coming, the desperate need to be alone with his pain, with his misery, just  _alone._ God, he hopes he doesn’t have to share a bed. One wrong move, one swift kick and he’s fearful he won’t be able to get out of that bed tomorrow. 

Images start flashing through his head: someone calling 911, being carted out on a gurney and traveling at a hundred miles per hour in an ambulance through the endless desert, scared and embarrassed and guilt-ridden because he couldn’t even keep himself out of trouble for  _one_ job. 

He snaps back to reality, notices that Rusty has his bag, small and messily packed this morning and he opens his mouth because it’s just the three of them again, or really the four of them with all the baggage Linus is carrying both physically and emotionally and Danny, suave bastard he is, beats him to it.

“Linus, you’re with Rusty and I.”

The world is sucked into some small, thin tube and Linus along with it. He absolutely  _cannot_ spend the night with them because then they will  _know_ , they will know that Linus has been lying and that he was left alone for nine goddamn hours and that he got beaten up in some back alleyway like in a freaking movie, like they weren’t there to protect him, like he’s utterly incapable of protecting himself. 

They will know and Linus will have nowhere to hide, no excuses to make, no apologies that will be enough.

The door will close and he will have nowhere left to run.

* * *

There’s one bed in the motel room.

There's one bed and Linus is  _freaking_ out because he wasn't expecting this but he really should have been expecting this and he doesn't know how much more of this day he can take and Danny must notice how completely  _not_ okay with this he is because his words cut through Linus like a bucket of icy cold water...

“Are you afraid of sharing a bed with us, Linus?”

He’s not scared, exactly, more like downright terrified that he will lose himself and do something he will regret for the rest of his life, like pushing Danny and Rusty away because they’re so disgusted with him, or even worse, just not into him.

Rusty pops his head out of the bathroom, spitting out too eager, too careless words around his toothbrush. “I won’t bite!”

“Less likely than the bed bugs anyway,” Danny teases.

_They don’t realize,_ Linus reminds himself.  _They don’t know the harm their words are causing. They don’t know how long I’ve pined for them and Jesus, it’s like being in the third grade again and having some stupid crush. Except you’re old enough now to really respect and admire them, old enough to know better, old enough to cause real damage. They don’t mean anything by it but they’re teasing me all the same, always teasing me, and they don’t know how badly I want them._

He knows Danny is watching him but he avoids eye-contact, even a simple glance. He also doesn’t go anywhere near the bed but hovers in front of the TV instead, hands shoved in his pockets, the only reason for them not shaking in anxiety being that he’s holding his entire body taut, not wanting to make the heated agony in his lower stomach any more real, not wanting to elicit Danny and Rusty’s acknowledgment of it.

_No more weakness._

Just the weakness he can’t help.

He can hear rustling behind him and is well aware that Danny is now sitting on the bed, that Linus should move because he’s blocking the TV and yet doesn’t care. The flick of a light switch behind him betrays Rusty exiting the bathroom and now Linus really  _can’t_ turn, not without betraying himself, not without crumpling to the carpet in pain or screaming at the both of them to get the hell out or simply leaving himself. He can’t just turn around and  _be_ here, in this room, with these two men that he wants so badly to want him too. 

It would be incredibly uncomfortable without the voices coming from the TV and yet he is granted that, neither muting Linus’ simple little need nor speaking another word to him. They are simply silent,  _waiting,_ and even that becomes infuriating to him after a long spell. 

After a point, Rusty moves around him, packing and unpacking things, flipping through the small TV guide on the dresser, popping in and out of the bathroom until Linus is trembling from pain and from fury and even from desperation.

He waits and waits and waits, seething, hoping, begging but Rusty won’t go to bed, continuing to do this and that around the very small room until Linus finally gets the hint and accepts his fate and turns, eyes trained on the carpet and only lifting when he’s reached the bed and has to see well-enough to settle himself down in it. Beside Danny Ocean, beside temptation and everything he’s ever wanted, maybe even since he first met Danny.

He thinks he hides the pain pretty well, his face may be pinched but he doesn’t make a sound and doesn’t wince or groan or even whimper under his breath. It takes him a long eternity to scoot over to the middle, after giving Danny ample time to change his mind and Linus enough time to steel himself for the inevitable, and that’s just completely aside from the fact that he’s sure that any minute now he will cry out from the pain that just won’t lessen and that moving, even minutely, only exacerbates. When he claims his small portion of the bed successfully, inches away from brushing against Danny, that’s when Rusty immediately stops doing whatever he’s doing and makes for the bed.

_Sure, Rusty, you’re not being obvious at all._

It’s enough for Linus’ heart to leap up into his throat, for his pleading eyes to briefly meet Rusty’s, so nonchalant and yet with a hint of smugness, before wrenching it away again. He has to focus on breathing to try to keep his stomach from heaving in an anxiety encroaching on panic.

It’s clear that there’s not enough room for the three of them, but it’s even more clear just how much Danny and Rusty don’t care. Rusty holds up the covers, waiting for Linus to slip under them but he can’t bring himself to do it, waiting instead for Rusty’s huff as he relegates himself to lie atop them, same as Danny, fully clothed and  _still_ waiting. 

Linus is squished between them now, not uncomfortably so, skin against fabric because Linus is less clothed than they are in a short sleeved tee and khakis. Normally, he’d be ecstatic about this but he really doesn’t understand what the hell he’s doing here. He hates that he’s agreeing to this, hates Danny and Rusty for insisting he not sleep on the floor, hates himself even more for putting them through this because he’s part of the team and they probably feel obligated and it’s all Linus’ fault really, how could it not be?

He’s almost to the point of excusing himself when Rusty quips, “I’m not good with uncomfortable silences.”

And Linus knows full well that the only reason the silence is uncomfortable is because of him. Danny and Rusty are used to sharing a room together, used to not saying anything at all while also saying a dozen different things the world at large never gets to hear. They’re so perfect together, so  _perfect_ and Linus is just ruining it all by being here, by forcing his problems on them. 

Linus grits his teeth. It’s not their fault, they’re above this. “I should…”

Danny’s hand rests over his arm, rubbing gently and there’s nothing casual about it and panic and guilt rush up Linus’ throat until he’s sure it’s bile and he’s also sure he’s dreaming and wonders if people can throw up in dreams and he’s more than sure of anything that he, Linus Caldwell, has suddenly crossed a line that he can never come back from. He either has or soon will absolutely ruin his relationship with these two awe-inspiring, talented, beautiful men, and just when things were going better than they ever had before.

He jolts upright with a whimper, holding an arm very loosely across his stomach, horrified and achy all over and wondering how far he’ll be able to run before he collapses, wondering how far Danny and Rusty will chase him.

But no, that’s not right, Danny and Rusty wouldn’t chase him. They’d sit there calmly and wait for him to come back and there would be nothing wrong with that. Why should they chase him down like he was a girl who needed to be coaxed back, who needed to be reminded that there was nowhere to go but desert in every direction?

“Linus,” Danny warns, like he knows Linus is about to do something very bad and his words are enough to stop Linus in mid-motion. They are. Linus sits there and pants and forces down the rushing sound in his ears and tries not to curl in on himself too much because it doesn’t make his stomach hurt any less.

He doesn’t suffer alone, in his head, for long.

“Lie back,” Rusty soothes, amazingly warm hand sealing itself to the back of Linus’ neck and Linus falls without thinking anymore about it, slowly, Rusty guiding him down.

Linus can’t remember when that hand slipped out from behind his head and moved to his chest, but the moment he realizes it he becomes incredibly self-conscious and tenses, fighting with everything he’s got not to push Rusty’s hand away, not to bolt because he has nowhere to go, because they actually realized that something was wrong and didn’t grill him about it in front of the others but also didn’t want him to be alone tonight. Mostly because his stomach twists and burns and the tears in his eyes are too numerous and start to spill over.

“Danny?”

“Yeah.”

Linus tenses further underneath Rusty’s hand and he’s positive the blond can hear the thundering of his heart. “Relax, kid. Danny’s just getting some cream.”

Even more anxious, Linus’ curiosity gets the better of him and his gaze follows Danny around the room, watching as he opens the white paper bag he had previously wondered about and removes a very small tub of something that looks suspiciously like makeup. Danny glances up at him, a smile of reassurance opening up his face with zero effort, and inch by inch Linus relaxes and the weight of Rusty’s hand lessens in response.

He tries not to think about Rusty holding him down.

He tries not to think about how in any other situation, he’d be begging for Rusty to hold him down.

Rusty shifts behind him then so that Linus’ head moves into his lap, and Linus feels even more awkward because Rusty isn’t eating anything and Rusty isn’t doing his weird finish each other’s sentences and even internal thoughts thing with Danny. He’s just reclining back against the headboard, Linus’ head resting in his lap, perfectly content to sit and wait.

“This’ll take some of the edge off,” Danny calmly explains, like he’s talking about the weather or what he had last night for dinner. That cool collectedness mixed with his effortless confidence has always left Linus in awe and _mostly_ put him at ease. Tonight, however, his barriers are crumbling down and his emotions are going haywire and his stomach is making him want to curl up inside himself in pitiable agony and there is still plenty of opportunity to embarrass himself in front of the only two men in the world he absolutely _does not_ want to embarrass himself in front of. He’d almost rather have his parents here right now. 

Okay, it can’t be  _that_ bad. 

He breathes in calmly, fire streaking across his insides and he swallows, shifting in nervousness and throwing an arm across his eyes when the tears start streaming. “Easy, kiddo,” Danny breathes, so close to his ear that Linus almost jerks again, but Rusty’s hand dips down to his side and splays out there, thumb rubbing small circles into his hip.

In his words there is no room for argument or contradiction. “Breathe shallow. Relax and you’ll need less oxygen.” Linus nods and removes his arm, watching almost from outside his own body as Danny lifts his shirt up, exposing the dark bruising across the lower half of his stomach. Danny grimaces and Rusty whistles, his thumb pressing harder, more insistently into Linus’ skin until Linus looks up at him. “We don’t have painkillers, but you don’t need them.” Linus briefly wonders how Rusty can be so believable, how it’s so easy for him to believe every word out of his mouth. Then again, he’s always had that effect on Linus. “Try not to make anymore sudden movements, alright? Vomiting will only make it worse.”

How did he know Linus was continuously swallowing back nausea?

Wondering what Danny’s doing, Linus starts to shift his gaze back down until Rusty’s thumb presses in deeper, not deep enough that it hurts, just enough to be uncomfortable and to hold his attention. “Danny’s about to put his hands on you, okay? I don’t want you to think about anything or worry about anything. Just lie back and enjoy,” and Linus can see him smirk even through the tears coating his eyelashes. “I guarantee that in five minutes, Danny will have worked his own magic on you.”

“Don’t overestimate my talents, Rus.” Danny’s hands are at his waistband then, gingerly pulling his loose-fitting khakis down no more than a few inches. Linus keeps reminding himself how he trusts Danny even though he’s never been placed in this situation before. He keeps it up as a mantra in his head until Rusty makes a noise of disapproval and Linus exhales shakily, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his mind to empty.

He only realizes Danny had stopped when he starts back up again, a hand smoothing over the area dangerously close to the bruising in warning before retreating. That hand returns seconds later coated in something cool and soft, settling on his lower abdomen.

Danny’s hands are slow and gentle, rubbing the peppermint smelling cream into his belly with little more than a featherlight touch. Rusty’s hand is still resting along his side, reminding Linus of his unspoken promise. It doesn’t matter. Grain by grain Linus relaxes, teeth no longer worrying at his lower lip, oxygen flowing into his lungs easier, cool moisture seeping into his skin and, as promised, taking the sharp edge off the heat and searing pain.

It’s too much if he thinks about what Danny and Rusty are doing for him, so he doesn’t.

It’s too much if he thinks about how he could have spent this night alone, or with any of the others, and would have been all the worse for wear in the morning.

It’s too much if he lets his heart spill over in love and appreciation for them, so he bathes in it languidly and silently.

He drifts a bit, just a bit, because Danny and Rusty’s full attentions are now on each other and not fixed on him and Linus’ head hurts too much to follow their conversation, which he’d never be able to follow or understand anyway even if he was at full strength, always missing vital bits and pieces, always longing to just have one conversation with them where he’d never feel left out of anything.

After a while though, still not having fallen asleep, it starts to feel awkward again. “Guys…?”

“He thinks we’ve forgotten about him.”

“Funny, given I could practically eat him up with a spoon right now.”

“Don’t scare him off, Rusty.”

“You’re not scared, are you, Linus?”

Linus swallows, barely remembers not to shift. His eyes are practically glued shut. “Uh…”

“We’re not too…?”

“Nah.”

“And he doesn’t think…?”

“Doubt it. Maybe at first…”

“Until…”

“Yeah.”

“We could have picked a better time, maybe…”

“No time like the present, Danny. We’ve kept him…”

“Dangling from a string for long enough. Yep. Next phase then.”

Two sets of eyes finally,  _finally_ grant Linus their attention again, just as Linus sleepily pries open his own. “We’ve come to some necessary conclusions, Linus,” Rusty starts, everything wicked and hungry about his gaze. 

Linus switches to Danny, whose eyes are less wicked but even hungrier, if that makes any sense. “Loneliness  _may_ have something to do with it.”

“Or maybe we just like you, kid, a lot.”

“Quite a lot.”

“Enough for us to change the rules.”

“Just a bit.”

“Which, let’s face it, never really applied all that much anyway. More like guidelines. Healthy guidelines.”

“Healthy guidelines,” Linus repeats because he feels like he should say _something_ , but he doesn’t for the life of him know _what_. 

“Look, we _want_ …,” Danny sighs. “Maybe we’re jumping the gun.”

Rusty rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Do you think we’re jumping the gun?”

“That’s a loaded question. Maybe Linus should tell us what he wants.”

Linus opens his mouth but let’s face it, he’s not really a part of this conversation, just lying here, completely exposed, underneath them. In response he yawns widely, sleepier than he thought, than he wants to be. He feels safe though and cooled down, like he might actually get a good night’s rest tonight.

“I feel better,” he mumbles.

That seems to snap them back to attention as if having completely forgotten that Linus was injured at all, not really able to move or defend himself. Just cornered here, trapped, head roiling with how Danny and Rusty supposedly feel about him and yet too drained and fearful of moving to really confront it.

“Poor kid,” Rusty murmurs, low and syrupy. He cups a hand over Linus’ forehead, only briefly, but to Linus it feels like an eternity. “Fever’s cooled off some.” There’s a long pause, fingers smoothing through his hair and Linus is too tired and too embarrassed to tell him not to stop, grateful beyond words. “You got hurt because of us, Linus.”

They  _know._

They know and Linus is a terrible liar and can’t deny any of it, doesn’t have the energy to anyway.

And then there it is: the guilt and shame trickling back into his awareness.

Linus shakes his head at Rusty’s conviction, not because it isn’t true but because he doesn’t care. He’d do anything for Danny or Rusty, for Danny  _and_ Rusty, including take a bullet. This is nothing. This isn’t worth them having to witness his tears and rubbing cooling cream into his stomach and being so damn  _nice_ to him. 

“Did you think we’d leave you alone tonight?” Danny prods.

Did Linus think they were stupid, he means. Did Linus think they weren’t perceptive enough to notice how he had been holding himself a certain way and how he hadn't been talking and how he had been hiding just so he could get a second to be left alone to breathe? Did they just not notice how he had been  _avoiding_ them? Did Linus think that they didn’t care, that he was just a crybaby and could deal with the consequences of his own actions? 

Did Linus think they didn’t love him?

He starts tearing up again because it’s not lost on him how fingers keep brushing just above his waistband,  _Danny’s,_ so gently and so lightly that Linus could almost ignore them, but he can’t ignore anything about Danny Ocean; and how Rusty’s cheek is pressed against the top of his head, breathing in Linus like he’s inhaling food and it’s less creepy than it sounds, his fingers long and tender as they card through Linus’ hair. Linus knows without even looking that he’s exchanging words with Danny just with quick, meaningful glances but he doesn’t care. 

It’s not lost on him how he doesn’t deserve these two amazing men, or either one of them, but that somehow he has gotten them  _both_ . 

And Linus absolutely would have started sobbing had Rusty not stole back his fingers to procure a bag of chips and had Danny not removed his hands from Linus’ belly and neighboring areas.

Had Linus not been so content that the tears just would not come.

And then it’s Danny’s turn to relate the plan. “We should all take it easy tonight.”

Linus can hear Rusty licking the salt from his fingers. “I’ll still have an appetite for pancakes tomorrow morning with or without some physical activity.”

He can’t help but beam, although it is at a low watt with how content and calm he is now.

Linus almost could have chucked it all up to imagination, save for Rusty’s hand drifting idly up and down his arm while he watches old black and white films for the rest of the night, occasionally reaching across him to offer the bag of chips to Danny. Save for Danny’s wink before he screws the lid back on the cream, stretches out alongside Linus and presses a quick kiss into his cheek, a small bit of warmth that wraps itself around Linus’ heart and squeezes it in pride and adoration.

“You did good, Linus. Real good with everything that’s been thrown at you, and we’re sorry.”

“But don’t ever put us through anything like this again,” Rusty finishes. “You come and you talk to us.”

“Don’t _ever_ hide.”

“We care about you too much for that.”

He drifts to sleep with the monotone drone of voices from the TV interspersed with his two companions’ occasional words, including Danny’s “I pushed a bit too hard, didn’t I?” and Rusty’s quick, impressed “Good execution, better than good intentions, less than perfect situation.” Then, again, a long time later, Danny’s “You think…?” and Rusty’s “He’ll be alright,” so sure and so protective like Rusty will make personally sure that he will be.

The very last thing he hears is Rusty’s contented munching canceling out Danny’s film commentary, Linus smiling because all is right with the world and his stomach doesn’t really hurt anymore at all.

Tomorrow morning he’ll drill them as to how they found out but at this moment, it’s not worth worrying about.

He’ll let Danny and Rusty do the worrying for now.

**FIN**


End file.
